"Report." The voice came through the computer screen just as cool and demanding as it would have in real life. There was something demanding about Batman himself that would just not abate for any amount of distance. His presence came through any communicator. Robin found himself wondering if they could just record him leaning into a camera and growling out "confess" to play during interrogations instead of actually answering Batman.

"Robin." An eyebrow was twitching somewhere.

"Right. Sixteen muggings in the last two days, five robberies, one con man, and a truck full of chickens exploded on the freeway- that caused a bit of a stir, though that might have been because of Beast Boy -he was teaching them to-"

"And yesterday?"

Robin sighed. "Yeah, well, it seemed like it was pretty straight forward…"

"Seemed?" He didn't even need to raise his voice, though Robin could tell that would happen soon anyway. The inflection alone made a shiver run up his back. Of all the things Robin feared, the Joker, the nightmares, Beast Boy's cooking, disappointing Batman was the one he feared the most.

"I know, believe me, I know." He rubbed the back of his neck, where a bruise had formed over the night, and winced.

"I thought I trained you better than that."

"You did! Look, I'll get it right. I'm just working out a few kinks. Working with a team is different. It's not like I have complete control over any of them. I don't always know what they're going to do, but-"

"Exactly. I'm starting to reconsider letting you join the Titans." Something beeped off screen in Gotham, garnering Batman's attention.

"Letting me?" That was not how that conversation had gone in Robin's memory. "You let me join the Titans?"

"Maybe you need more experience with serious criminals, and maybe then you'll learn when a bank robbery isn't a bank robbery." Robin spluttered on his end, trying to come up with an adequate response that wouldn't get him dragged back to Gotham by his cape. "I expect a full report tomorrow night." The screen went dark.

_-_-_-_BREAK-_-_-_-_

Slade walked into the impromptu lab where Scarecrow was admiring his work- a swirling concoction of blues and greens in a beaker. He set his prize down on desk and moved toward the felon.

"It's ready?"

Scarecrow nodded, excitement thrumming through his veins. He had never even contemplated this idea, and yet, it would be the best thing he'd ever done. That is, if he got it right. Imagine taking down Batman with a custom ordered nightmare. Think of the profits! He giggled. Think of the power!

"This is, of course, the first real test. I'll need several test subjects to alter the formula." The eyes of his mask narrowed.

"Naturally. I'll gather the necessary volunteers tonight." Until then, Slade thought, I'll have to contain the dear, deranged doctor with busy work. Or, he thought, even better…In seconds Scarecrow was on the ground, snoring softly into his burlap mask.

There was no way Slade was listening to that man ramble about his infinitely evil ego longer than he had to. Especially not when it was nothing compared to his own.

He stalked back to his desk, removing the dark cloak from his shoulders and the cowl from his head. It certainly had done the trick-that fool believed his ruse. As if Batman would actually be interested in the ramblings of an obsessed fan. No, but on the other hand, he was definitely interested, especially since the man was onto something. He sat down in the desk, pausing only when he heard a low groan from the next room. Scarecrow had begun to drool on the floor. His nose wrinkled in revulsion. Wintergreen would not be happy with his list of chores tonight. De-droolifying the lair.

Inside Brandon LeFoll's "Batman Binder" was a list of possible high ranking members of Gotham society that were potentially Batman. He snorted when he read the list. There were several corrupt politicians, a former District Attorney who was now sporting a rather indecisive suit, the incompetent Mayor, the Police Commissioner, and one or two wealthy and usually drunk socialites. He snorted when he read Gordon's name. Definitely too old to be beating up crackheads on the sly. Besides, how exactly could he be in the same place at the same time? Gordon was notorious for being the only one Batman really talked to and trusted. Well, besides a certain bird. He was almost regretting the potential waste of explosives he used setting up LeFoll's apartment.

Brandon had a rambling answer to that. Some sort of trick with mirrors and an actor. Whatever. Most of the names on the list bore the same scrutiny. And then, in the middle of the binder was one name circled. Bruce Wayne. Articles outlined Wayne's activities coinciding with Batman appearances. It turned out that Wayne was never seen in the same place that Batman was. And to top off binder, was a flooding of pictures of Wayne's new ward- one Richard Grayson. Formerly of the Flying Grayson's infamy.

There, waving from the top of a circus tent was a boy of about eight, his parents proudly proclaiming that he was the youngest aerialist to perform without the aid of a net. He scratched his chin and picked up a black pen. A domino mask was added to the flyer. His face cracked into a grin, which only grew when he flipped the page.

The last article on the Graysons was Richard Grayson huddled by his fallen parents while a shocked crowd looked on. And, as the story read, a very shocked Bruce Wayne who had lost his own parents at the same age. Bruce Wayne, who would later become Richard Grayson's guardian and mentor in all things bat. A sub-headline read, "connected by murder."

"Victims," Slade laughed, "aren't we all."

_-_-_-_BREAK-_-_-_-_

Robin fumed at his computer screen in the minutes that lapsed between Batman's departure and the appearance of Alfred. The older man's kind face filled the screen. He didn't appear to have aged a day, his white hair looking just a distinguished as it had last week, and his smile just as kind, but his eyes looked tired.

"He didn't mean it, Master Dick." The butler's voice was low, as if Batman could somehow hear him from across Gotham. Though, Dick thought, maybe he could. "He's under a lot of pressure."

"Yeah, I know. Gotham's tough. Tougher than Jump City. I know. He thinks I should be there, helping him instead of wasting my time here."

"I think," Alfred said, voice a bit distant, "that he is quite glad that you are not here at the moment."

"What do you mean?" Dick's eyes widened with shock. "He doesn't want me there?"

"Oh no, of course he always wants you here. No, I meant there's a particularly dangerous case at the moment." Alfred smoothed things over.

"Well, maybe I should-"

"I think you should stay where you are most needed, Master Dick, with your team. That is, after all, where you would most want to be, is it not?"

Dick smiled in response. He couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Even with the clattering of pans in the kitchen, signaling Starfire's renewed attempts at baking.

"Hey, Alfred?" He remembered his promise to Raven two nights before. He shifted in his seat. "How do you deal with nightmares?"

The old butler smiled, his eyes betraying his deep sadness at the question. After all, Alfred thought, boys his age should not have to deal with the nightmares he gets.

_-_-_-_BREAK-_-_-_-_

Ash hung in the air on 24th Street, floating down to the streets. "Gotham Snow," they called it. Ash from the mad men and women parading through the city, blowing up everything they could get their hands on. This seemed no different to the police and arson investigators gathered around the apartment complex. The apartment that housed the ignition point was that of an ex-con. Ralph Easton, a former bank robber whose expertise, or lack thereof, was in explosive devices. The explosion may have started in his apartment, but it took out the six surrounding apartments. Ten people dead, four in critical condition.

"Open and shut." Harvey Bullock licked the remnants of glazed sugar from his lips. He wasn't even sure why they called him out. There were plenty of other detectives in the GCPD with backgrounds in arson that could have been called. But, it had been his lucky day. Not like he had anywhere else to be anyway.

"Not exactly." A dark shadow breezed past. Annnd getting luckier, he thought, scuffing his loafers against the concrete. A nervous habit he developed in the academy. And Batman always brought it out in him. It was like he intentionally crept up on him every opportunity he had. Bullock never saw him do it to any of the other detectives.

"Ralph Easton cleaned up his act." He could have sworn he saw Batman glance down at his feet and smirk. He was wrong, of course, Batman never smirked. Must have been a trick of the light.

"Yeah, got religion or something. So what? I doubt God had anything to do with this." He scowled as he swept his arm across the still burning remains of the complex.

"Not God." Batman knelt by the rubble. He ran the names of the ten people killed through his head. Only one jumped out at him. Brandon LeFoll. That name sounded familiar. That's right. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits of white against the smoky night. That was the name of the man who had tried to get in contact with Dick after Bruce Wayne became his legal guardian. A treacherous pattern was emerging in Gotham, and Batman's protégé was in the middle of it, despite not being in the city limits.

[A/N]- So yeah, a couple of days late, but I hope this is adequate for the few readers I actually have. Please let me know what you think. It doesn't take long to review. Just let me know you're still interested in reading this. Thanks.